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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29794878">cover your eyes 'cause you need to escape</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livdonna/pseuds/Livdonna'>Livdonna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Eating Disorder / “Relief” AU [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sixx:A.M.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bipolar Disorder, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Depression, Dissociation, Eating Disorders, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Maladaptive Coping, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:48:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29794878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livdonna/pseuds/Livdonna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a part of me, deep down, that longs for human connection and comfort from other people.  That part of me is dug so deep into the depths of my soul, so I hardly hear it come out.  When it does decide to come out, it sounds soft and fragile; almost child-like.  It sounds like an innocent, lost, broken, confused person; someone who just wants guidance and direction in their life.</p><p>Someone who just wants answers.</p><p>Usually, I feel the most comfortable when I’m alone, but right now I don’t.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Eating Disorder / “Relief” AU [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Don't have much to say about this besides that it feels very vulnerable to post this, but most of my stories do...  This takes place in the "relief" AU and is heavily focused around trauma, (and like eating disorders, it's something I've dealt with first-hand). The two go hand in hand quite often.</p><p>Warnings are in the TAGS.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>JAMES’S POV:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>11:00pm</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>I always say that I’m the most comfortable in the darkness... I always tell myself that when I’m alone and stuck in the black hole of depressive fog, I feel the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lie.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ve tricked myself into believing this.  For my whole life, I’ve been trying to figure out how to manage the imbalances in my brain; the ones that make me feel unstable, erratic, out of control, powerless, and scared.  I’ve become used to the chaos that goes on up in my head, but unfortunately, that’s normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter if what you’re going through is good or bad.  If you experience the same thing over and over again for a prolonged period of time, it becomes a </span>
  <em>
    <span>norm.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>You get completely used to it and something different instills fear, because change is scary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The self-deprecation that I constantly shoot out at myself is normal.  I feel way more comfortable abusing myself and expecting others to abuse me because that’s what I’ve dealt with for most of my life.  Whenever someone tries to treat me well, I get scared and push them away.  It’s the unfamiliarity aspect that freaks me out.  See, when I inflict torture on myself, I already know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what to expect, because I’ve done it so many times already.  I’m used to people hurting me so getting hurt feels safe in a fucked up way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t predict what can happen if someone tries to love me, or nurture me, or comfort me.  How the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> am I supposed to know if the person is being genuine or not?  How am I supposed to predict what will happen?  I can’t trust that whoever is approaching me will be honest and loving forever... They can always turn on me, and stab me in the back like the other people in my life have.  There’s no way for me to know for sure what the outcome will be, so I just always expect the end result to be horrible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Negativity within myself is </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe </span>
  </em>
  <span>because it’s predictable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My bipolar disorder is unpredictable, and it initially scared me, but since I’ve been dealing with it for the longest time, the lability of my moods are now something that I feel comfortable with... The torture and torment within my brain is absolutely horrific, yet it’s so familiar now that I feel at home when I’m stuck in the depths of a dark cage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isolating myself and putting walls up as a way to block other people out feels protective and secure... I don’t have to worry about anyone trying to invade or break my armor because I block them out first.  I don’t have to be scared of getting hurt if I shut myself out from the world, and hide from everything...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tell myself this but sometimes I start questioning it... Right now, I’m feeling the opposite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a part of me, deep down, that longs for human connection and comfort from other people.  That part of me is dug so deep into the depths of my soul, so I hardly hear it come out.  When it does decide to come out, it sounds soft and fragile; almost child-like.  It sounds like an innocent, lost, broken, confused person; someone who just wants guidance and direction in their life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone who just wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>answers.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, I feel the most comfortable when I’m alone, but right now I don’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes the night time is actually the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hardest </span>
  </em>
  <span>for me... Laying in bed is the most difficult because it’s the one time during the day when I’m not distracted by working, or therapy, or daily tasks.  I’m just left alone to fester in all of my thoughts, feelings, and emotions.  I have no choice but to just let my body sink into the cushions, while feeling suffocated by my brain’s harsh words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nighttime is when all of the intrusive memories eat away at me, and I can’t do anything to stop them... The sensations get worse when I’m alone, and they’re even scarier because I have no one to tell me whether what I’m feeling is real or not, even though some part of me knows they’re flashbacks... It’s terrifying in the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all I see right now.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Darkness.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>~ ~ ~ </span>
</p><p>
  <b>DJ’s POV:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>11:30pm</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m worried </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick </span>
  </em>
  <span>about James.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dude has been impossible to get in touch with, and sure, that’s not the biggest shock since James is a huge hermit, but this is different.  Usually I’m able to get at least one text response from him... Even if it’s just a one word answer, I feel some sort of ease because I know he’s alive and okay...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, when I don’t get anything... That’s a whole different story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every day I’m tempted to drive over to his house to check on him... He gave me a spare key a while back when me and Nikki took care of Rocco for him when he was in treatment.  I never gave it back, and he never asked for it so I still have it.  I’ve been resisting the urge to go over there, but I feel like I can’t do it anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something inside of me is just screaming... It’s been begging me to stop by because for some reason, I have a gut feeling that James needs someone with him right now.  I hate whenever I have these intuitive moments because it’s always a dreadful feeling... It’s always the feeling that something’s terribly wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I know I’m allowed to feel nervous, but I wish it didn’t happen all the time.  The worst of it has been over for a good while now, but I still have moments like these where I start to panic over catastrophic possibilities.  They don’t happen as frequently as they used to, but lately I’ve felt more anxious because I know that James is in a tough spot.  He hasn’t said it to my face because I hardly get to contact him, but I just know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t need to say it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Me and Nikki </span>
  <em>
    <span>know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nikki told me that this week is a vulnerable time of the year for James... Apparently it’s the anniversary of something traumatic that happened to him... I don’t know details, and I’m not sure if Nikki does either, because as much as I know James has trauma, he’s never actually opened up fully to either one of us about it...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He uses the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>trauma </span>
  </em>
  <span>now, but he doesn’t go into it... I don’t even know if he talks about it in his therapy sessions.  That worries the shit outta me because I know that’s a huge reason why he developed an addiction, and if he’s still not processing the things that caused it, he’s not gonna get better, and fuck! I don’t even wanna think about that right now!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m already worried as shit about him... I don’t need to start convincing myself that he’s gonna fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>die </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the thing that almost killed him two years ago... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ ~ ~ </span>
</p><p>
  <b>JAMES’s POV:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>2:30am</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know if I fell asleep or not, but I have a horrible feeling of uneasiness.  My body is curled up into the tightest protective ball, but my eyes are wide open.  I feel cold, yet there’s an uncomfortable wave of warmth filling my body; it’s not a comforting kind of warmth... It’s not the feeling of a warm, safety blanket wrapping around me; no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a dreadful warmth... An anticipatory warmth... A sense that something terrible can happen to me any second now... It’s the feeling of knowing that maybe something already </span>
  <em>
    <span>did.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Did I have a nightmare?  Did I just wake up from it?  Did my brain block it out? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have no answers to these questions, but this horrible sense of dread that I’m feeling has been happening almost every night... I never think much of it because I tell myself I should be used to it.  I am used to it but it’s horrifying, and sometimes I just want someone to be here to tell me it’ll all be okay... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My body is trembling out of pure fear, but I don’t feel safe enough to uncurl myself out of the ball I’m in.  My couch doesn’t even feel safe any-more, but I feel too paralyzed to move off of it.  My stomach has a huge hollow in it, and my heart is beating out of my chest.  My head is hurting in a throbbing manner, and my breathing is starting to sound hitched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m alone but I feel like I’m not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m alone, but right now I don’t want to be... I want to be comforted but I’m too scared to ask for help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m scared, and I don’t feel like I deserve it... I’m being flooded with a ton of emotions: </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear, helplessness, loneliness, anxiety, panic, depression, sadness, worthlessness, powerlessness...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When my emotions get too high, my brain feels cloudy and fogged by every irrational thought ever.  I can’t think straight because it’s the emotions that run the show, and I’m starting to feel my head go to a bad place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I never tell anyone when this happens because why would I be a burden to others when they have so much of their own shit to worry about?  I’ve put everyone through enough and they don’t need my crap to deal with on top of their own lives.  I hate my fuckin’ brain... It can go from crying internally for help all the way to pushing every single person away because I don’t deserve their help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s always a huge conflict in there and it makes me feel even crazier than I already do.  I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.  My body feels like it’s sinking deeper and deeper into my couch, along with my thoughts... My brain is falling into a dark pit of hopelessness and pure desperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I want all of this to stop so badly, but I don’t know how to stop it.  I wish that I was able to shut my thoughts up but I don’t have that power or control.  It's bad enough being powerless over my own body and what’s happening to it, but when you’re powerless over your own mind, it’s even scarier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t control where my head goes, and I can’t control if I have intrusive thoughts or not.  My mind races way too fast and I can’t keep up with it and before I know it, it’s too late... It’s like a horrible hamster wheel.  You get on but you can’t get yourself off... It’s an eerie Ferris wheel.  You’re spiraling into a dark, distorted, terrifying reality; a reality that’s the farthest from real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a reality that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>delusional.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears are beginning to drip down my face but since I’m alone, I’m not stopping them.  When I’m alone, I feel okay to cry, but I also don’t.  My uneasiness and the twisting of my stomach is making this experience feel frightening.  I know I’m alone but the sensations that I’m feeling make me feel like I’m not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time I feel a pull on my arm, I remember that I’m an undeserving piece of crap who doesn’t deserve good things from people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whenever my wrist feels like it’s being squeezed, I have an urge to squeeze myself tighter; an urge to hurt myself to take that pain away... although it’s pain that I deserve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each time my head throbs, I get reminded that I’m a horrible person who shouldn’t even be here right now...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ ~ ~ </span>
</p><p>
  <b>DJ’s POV:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>3:30am</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t fuckin’ sleep because my mind kept me up... It’s two in the morning, and I’m parked in James’s driveway.  I couldn’t handle not coming here.  If I stayed laying in my bed, I would have crawled outta my skin.  All of this worry has been eating at me the whole fuckin’ day and I just couldn’t take it any more... That’s why I’m here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I just need to check on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I just need to make sure he’s okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes me a few moments to compose myself enough to get outta my car and start walking up to James’s front door.  I pull the spare key outta the pocket of my lounge pants and carefully insert it into the doorknob.  I’m trying to be as gentle as possible because if James is sleeping, I would hate to wake him up.  The guy hardly sleeps... If I ruin any rest he’s getting I don’t think I will be able to forgive myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few attempts of maneuvering the key, I’m able to successfully unlock the door.  I slowly open it and walk inside the foyer of the house, being cautious of the noise I’m making.  I quietly pull the key out of the door, and lock it, letting it close softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once I take a few steps into the hallway, I notice that all of the lights are off... That’s not too much of a surprise considering it’s the middle of the night right now, but I feel uneasy for some reason.  It’s dark and it’s eerily quiet... All this is doing is bringing up some unpleasant memories... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I really </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to go there right now... I really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I do my best to shake the memories away as I slowly walk through the house... I have a feeling that James is in his studio, but I can’t help but scan the downstairs area before I make my way to the basement.  I feel like a guard dog... Hunting for clues and analyzing any little detail that can give me a hint of whatever’s going on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wish I wasn’t so nervous right now.  He’s probably sleeping and I’m over here freaking out about what </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, I decide that I should just go down to the studio, so I start making my way towards the staircase.  My stomach is twisting and turning as I take in the piercing silence.  The only noises that I hear are my own footsteps and the creaking of James’s tiled floor.  It reminds me of when you’re watching a horror movie, and all of the suspense is eating you alive... You’re just waiting for something to happen... You’re waiting for the dreadful </span>
  <em>
    <span>fate</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every step I take down the stairs makes my heart race.  I have a really bad feeling right now, but I’m doing everything in my power to try to keep a clear head like Nikki would be telling me.  As much as it helps to remember the things that he’s told me, it only works for so long.  It’s so hard for me to stay grounded... It’s hard when my brain is constantly shooting out catastrophic outcomes to every situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I really miss when I didn’t think like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before I know it, I’m in front of the studio door.  It’s closed but why am I surprised?  James never keeps it open... Without even walking in, I can make out the dimly lit candles around the room.  I’ve always loved that James put candles in there... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bite my lip out of uneasiness, as I gently turn the knob and slowly slide the door open a crack; just enough for me to be able to sneak in.  I’m immediately greeted with an intense whiff of cigarette smoke.  My eyes squeeze shut for a moment as I fight the urge to cough.  It’s not like I’ve never been surrounded by smoke, but Jesus... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is on a whole other level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes me a few moments to force myself to open my eyes, but when I do, I start making my way into the room.  James’s studio is almost like a maze... There’s so many different parts... Rooms within rooms... Doors... Secret entrances...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m snapped out of my thoughts once I come face to face with another door.  Fuck... Guess I spaced out so much that I didn’t even realize... I would have walked right into the wall if I didn’t see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I try to laugh at that internal remark, but I can’t.  I’m feeling too nervous to joke about anything... and when I don’t make jokes, you know I’m really not feeling well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I force myself to open the door, and when I step inside, I feel my stomach drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m in the room where the soundboard is... The black couch... All of the dimly lit candles... James’s mystical looking box where he probably summons Stevie Nicks...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t focus on any of that though, because I’m too focused on how destroyed the area looks right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soundboard is covered in crumbled up sheets of paper; some written on and some blank.  There has to be about three or four coffee mugs on there too... The floor is littered in clothes that look like they’re been thrown around.  I can make out pieces of shattered glass spread across the room... All that does is make me want to fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>scream.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t fucking tell me that he had an outburst... Please don’t tell me he did something with that glass.  He almost did stuff with it in the past... Don’t tell me he cut himself.  Please don’t please don’t please don’t please DON’T—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>My breathing is quickening but before I can panic any more, I’m caught off guard by a soft groan.  I let out a hitched breath, and snap my head over to the black, leather couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I immediately feel a slight sense of relief wash over me.  Relief that soon turns to intense </span>
  <em>
    <span>concern.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>James is asleep on the couch, with his head hidden in his arm.  He’s curled up into a protective ball, but one of his arms is hanging off the cushion.  That’s when I see the lit cigarette dangling in-between his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy... fuck...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>My heart skips a beat and I immediately rush over to him, gently taking the cigarette out of his hand.  I can’t help but freak out thinking about the possibility of him dropping that and setting the house on fire.  Thank god I decided to come here... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I automatically dart my eyes around to seek out a place to put the cigarette out.  Eventually I spot an ashtray on a table near the soundboard, but my eyes immediately widen when I see how full the thing is.  It’s practically overflowing with cigarette butts, so much so that half of them probably slipped onto the carpet.  God... No wonder the studio is permanently marked with that scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and stick the cigarette on top of the others.  I can’t help but let my eyes travel around the room again.  As I take in all of the little details of destruction, I feel a chill up my spine.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I know without anyone saying anything that James is probably having a depressive episode.  The way that his clothes are plopped on the ground makes me think that he hasn’t had the motivation to pick them up or put them away.  Has he even done laundry?  I know that he also gets irritable during episodes too... Not just manic ones... And the glass... Oh god... the glass...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My teeth are digging into my lips to keep myself from panicking.  I don’t want to think about the glass... I don’t want to... Instead, I take another deep breath and turn my head back to James on the couch.  Now that I don’t need to worry about the cigarette lighting the studio on fire and killing him, I can really take everything in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some part of me wishes that I wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dude doesn’t have a blanket on him, and he doesn’t have a sweatshirt on either.  He’s just in his white tank top... Always the freakin’ tank top.  I wish that I can pretend that I don’t see how thin he looks, and how it’s obvious that he’s having a hard time.  I wish that I can pretend that I don’t see the pale color of his skin, and how his body is trembling.  I wish that I could push away the fact that recovery isn’t a straight line, and that slips will happen... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wish I could but I can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Trauma anniversaries are rough, DJ... Struggling more than usual is normal during those times...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nikki’s voice replays in my head as I stare at James.  My heart breaks more every minute that passes, and I finally decide to grab him a blanket... I can’t stand to see him looking so small and fragile... I can’t stand to see him neglecting himself and not bothering to take care of himself.  It fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I look around the room for a blanket.  Once I find one, I slowly walk back over to James, and gently place it on his shivering body.  However, the second that the material makes contact with his skin, I see him flinch.  My heart immediately skips a beat and my face is flushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck fuck fuck!  You’re an idiot!  Look at what you did!  You fuckin’ scared him—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I try my best to ignore my inner critic so I can focus my attention on James.  I could swear I see a tiny tear dripping down his face, and my heart feels shattered.  All I want to do is hug him and tell him that he’s okay, but I know I can’t... Touch still scares him... I hate that touch scares him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hate seeing James cry... I hate it so much but I also feel relieved knowing that he’s releasing some of his baggage... At the same time, I can’t help but worry immensely, because the longer that I stay kneeling down in front of him, the more tears I see dripping down his face, and now he’s curling into himself more than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not stupid, and as much as I hate to face the truth, I know...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I know he’s having some kind of nightmare... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ve seen him cry in his sleep before, but he never talked to me about it.  He never told me what he’s dreamt about, or if he’s still been dealing with it... Well, I guess I have my answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a soft breath, and I can feel tiny tears welling in my own eyes now.  I hate seeing James look so sad and vulnerable.  He doesn’t deserve to have to go through this... I hate that he’s still dealing with this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buddy...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before I know it, I start whispering soothing words to him.  I know he probably can’t hear me, but I just feel the need to try to comfort him the best that I can.  I know if I touch him, it might make it worse so this is all I feel like I can do right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, I can’t help but reach a hand out to gently wipe the tears off of his face.  His body immediately flinches, and now his face is covered by both of his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James... It’s just me... You’re okay....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks so panicked and it scares me because I have no idea what the hell happened to him to make him feel like this.  I know he’s been abused but I don’t know details... I want to know, but at the same time I don’t... I don’t because I don’t know if I would be able to handle it... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth is </span>
  <em>
    <span>scary</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft cry from James snaps me out of my tornado of thoughts, and I feel my heart cracking even more.  Now more tears are dripping down my own face and I feel pathetic because I’m crying about this, but seeing someone you care about in so much pain hurts.  It hurts so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t even control myself before I gently rub my hand through his blonde hair... I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stand seeing him so scared.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh... It’s okay, buddy.... I’m here with you... You’re not alone, okay...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My whispers sound strained but I’m trying so hard to keep it together right now.  James’s body is shaking now, and I could swear I hear him mumbling... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t... Don’t do this please... I don’t get it... Stop... Why are you doin’ this....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is muffled and laced with so much pain.  My stomach is dropping as I make out the words he’s saying.  I continue petting his hair, hoping that it’ll soothe him, but he’s only mumbling faster.  He sounds fuckin’ panicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me go... Let me go... Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s talking so fast that I can hardly understand the words, but the terrified tone in his voice is what’s scaring me the most right now.  My heart is fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>breaking</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James.... James, buddy, it’s okay... Hey, it’s okay...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words spit outta my mouth with urgency but I’m trying to be as consoling as I can.  Now I’m rubbing his back and I hate how easily I can feel the bumps of his spine, but I’m trying to ignore that.  That’s not what’s important right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James is curling up even tighter now and his body is shaking profusely.  I feel sweat dripping down his back and he’s crying now.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the love of god let me go... Stop touching me.... GET OFF OF ME—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swear to god, I feel all the color draining from my face now.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop touching me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes are bugged out and my own hand is shaking as I continue to try to soothe James.  My body is full of horrible, uncomfortable sensations right now, and I’m feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  I don’t want to believe that I heard him say that but I did... He fuckin’ said that.... </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No god... Please... Don’t tell me that’s real.  Please for the love of god.  He couldn’t have.... No......... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not making any effort to control the tears that are falling down my face now.  What the fuck is the point?  I can’t hold it.  I can’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t stop the tears and I can’t stop myself from wrapping my arms around James now.  He’s crying so hard, and he’s pulling away but I can’t let him suffer alone like this.  I want to make this go away for him.  I wish I could take all of this suffering away.  He doesn’t fuckin’ DESERVE IT—-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No... No.... No no no no stop... Stop... STOP—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scream that comes out of James’s mouth is piercing and I bite my lip to keep myself from gasping.  I can’t take this.  It’s not fair!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh, shhhh... James... James....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words spill out of my mouth too quickly because of my panic, but I need to ground him... I know how nightmares are.  I fuckin’ dealt with them and still do sometimes.  They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know if James can hear a word I’m saying because now he’s breaking down in hysterical sobs.  Straight out </span>
  <em>
    <span>wails</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I swear my heart is being shattered into a million pieces.  I don’t know how I’m supposed to contain myself and not go into a breakdown myself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>pathetic.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“James, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise </span>
  </em>
  <span>you that you’re safe right now.... I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise </span>
  </em>
  <span>that nothing is happening to you.... You’re safe.... James, please... Shhhh... You’re okay....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the midst of my pained whispers, I feel James grabbing a hold of my shirt.  He’s grabbing it and I can feel his tears starting to soak it.  I can’t do anything but continue to squeeze him tightly, while rubbing comforting circles up and down his spine.  He won’t stop shaking and his cries are so painful to witness... This whole thing is horrifically painful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, James... Let it out, buddy.... I’m right here... Hold onto me.... You’re okay...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James’s head is hidden in my chest.  It's so agonizing to watch him try to make himself look as small as possible.  It hurts so bad knowing that the only times he allows himself to be this vulnerable is when he’s unconscious.  He would never be clinging onto me like this if he was awake and fully aware of it...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just like when you found him... That night... He didn’t know you were cradling him back and forth... He didn’t know that you did what you’re doing right now...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t even realize that I’m cradling him until that thought runs through my head, but I am.  I’m rocking his terrified body back and forth in my arms, as I hear the painful incoherent cries... The cries that feel like a stab in the chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m right here, buddy... You’re safe with me... You’re safe, James...”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please James... I need you to believe me... I need you to know that I would never hurt you... And that whoever fuckin’ did should burn the fuck in hell... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You didn’t deserve this, James...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>None of it...</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Please DJ... I can’t... I can’t do it again... I feel so... Violated... and exposed... and.... and....”</p><p>“James... Listen to me...”</p><p>I can’t say it... I can’t say any more... I can’t say any more because DJ is grabbing both of my hands now, squeezing them tight.  He’s sitting right in front of me, as my body trembles with terrorizing agony.  I feel my head being lifted up a tad.</p><p>“Look at me, James...”</p><p>There’s a slight crack in DJ’s voice and I let out a shaky hitched breath in response to it.  Having my head up and not being able to hide is scary, but I’m trying to listen... I’m trying...</p><p>“You’re safe now.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>second half!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>JAMES’S POV:</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>The next morning</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t remember anything from last night... In fact, I hardly remember anything from this morning... I don’t even know what time it is or what day it is... Fuck that... I feel like I’ve lost all perception of time...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything just feels like a fuckin’ blur.  A horrible, terrifying daze far away from reality... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All I remember is waking up on my couch in the studio with DJ asleep on the chair near my soundboard.  I have no idea how he even got here and when he did... I never asked him.  I couldn’t move a muscle when I woke up.  I had no fuckin’ energy or motivation to, so I just stayed laying down on that couch for god knows how long... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing that got me to sit up and come outside was the strong gnawing nicotine cravings that punched me in the gut.  I don’t know how long I’ve been out here... I haven’t said a damn word... I’ve had my sunglasses on the whole time but I know that my eyes are puffy and bloodshot, because I’ve been crying.  Silent tears have been dripping down my face but I feel numb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel numb and disconnected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to feel anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>DJ’s out here with me but I don’t know if he’s talking to me, because I can’t hear anything.  Everything around me feels hazy and far away.  I can hardly even feel the smoke going into my lungs, but I know I’ve been out here long enough to smoke three cigarettes.  It feels like that’s the only thing that’s keeping me the least bit sane right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t even explain what’s going on... I feel disconnected yet uneasy at the same time.  Something isn’t right and I’m not havin’ it... Something inside of me is telling me that I’m unsafe, and that something happened... I know I probably dreamt about something but I don’t fuckin’ remember and I don’t want to...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My heart is starting to beat faster now and my breaths are quickening.  I hate how I can have sudden bursts of panic like this out of nowhere.  I feel numb for one second and then the next second I’m too aware of every fuckin’ thing, like the way my body is squeezing me... and the way my wrists are getting pulled... and how my arms feel like someone is grabbing them... how my head is throbbing... how my stomach feels stabbed... how my breathing is hitched.... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t feel right.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t fuckin’ feel right.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“James....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could swear I feel DJ squeezing my hand, but I can hardly hear what he’s saying.  My stomach is dropping and I feel like I’m gonna die... I don’t even know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay with me, James...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My vision is blurring and if my sunglasses were off right now, my eyes would probably look glazed over.  I’m smoking faster now but it isn’t even helping any more.  I can’t stop, though... I can’t fuckin’ stop!  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My body is trembling and I don’t even realize that I’m about to light my </span>
  <em>
    <span>fourth </span>
  </em>
  <span>cigarette until I feel DJ gently grab it from my hand.  I can’t even fight back... I don’t have the strength to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve smoked enough, dude... Here, come on... Let’s go inside...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not even looking at him, but I can see his concerned face from my peripheral vision.  I can’t get myself to move, though.  For some reason, not having the safety net of the cigarettes is making my uneasiness so much worse now.  My hands are shaking, and I can’t help but cover my face with one of them.  I feel so exposed, and scared.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>DJ is squeezing my hand tighter, but I can’t find the energy in me to look at him.  Tears are dripping down my face again, but he can’t see them.  I accidentally let out a hitched breath, and freeze up even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James, you gotta get some food in ya... You haven’t eaten since you’ve gotten up....”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DJ... You don’t fuckin’ get it... I can’t... If I eat, I’ll get sick...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>My stomach twists at the mention of food, and I begin to shake my head extremely slowly.  It’s taking too much energy to do anything, but I need to fight him on this one... I can’t eat right now.  My stomach is closed... I have no appetite... I already feel sick without eating anything... I can’t do it... I don’t.... I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserve </span>
  </em>
  <span>it...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I.... Can’t....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My words come out sounding monotone and exhausted, but inside I’m crying and pleading for someone to make everything stop.  Talking makes me feel exposed, and I’m feeling even more unsafe now... I’m trembling even harder and my breaths are faster.  My eyes are squeezed shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buddy...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can vaguely hear the pain in DJ’s voice, as he lets out a sad sigh.  Shame is overpowering me but I have no drive to do anything to stop it.  I deserve to just sit in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I came here last night to check on you... Haven’t heard from ya in god knows how long... Wanted to make sure you were okay...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I still can’t uncover my face or turn my head to face him, but I still hear his words.  They’re a little foggy but I can still understand what he’s saying.... I hate myself for being such a shitty person... I do, but I deserve to sink in my own self-hatred.  What’s the fuckin’ point of doing anything else?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>worried about you...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t even realize that I start crying harder until I feel DJ rubbing my back.  I don’t even pull away even though I feel incredibly unsafe, I just can’t move.  I feel trapped, and now my heart is racing faster, and my stomach is knotting up, and I can’t breathe—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of my hands are covering my face now, and my head is hidden in between my knees.  I can’t hear anything except the voices of my past and I feel like I’m drifting away into a petrifying reality.  All of the sensations are hitting me at full force now, and I can’t stop shaking.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>HELP ME!  PLEASE JUST MAKE IT STOP!  I CAN’T DO THIS ANY-MORE!  PLEASE!  JUST MAKE IT STOP!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>STOP TOUCHING ME!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>STOP HURTING ME!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>FOR THE LOVE OF GOD... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>STOP!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“James... Hey... Can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>DJ’s voice is blurred into the background, but I know he’s still with me.  I just can’t uncurl myself... I can’t do it... I’m too scared...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I suddenly feel something cold touch my hand and my body tenses up.  My eyes are squeezed shut even tighter and my stomach is absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>hollow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I would never wish what I just felt upon anyone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t even think about what sensation I just felt.  I know DJ put something cold on me but I can’t focus on that... I can only focus on the one... </span>
  <em>
    <span>vivid</span>
  </em>
  <span>... sensation...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel all ounces or color draining from my face right now, and I suddenly feel extremely dizzy... It’s from hyperventilating, I know, but... Oh god.... oh... God....</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DJ.....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m somehow able to choke words out of my mouth, but they come out sounding extremely weak... Exhausted... Fragile...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I slowly lift my head up from my knees and grab onto DJ’s hand.  I can make out the worried expression on his face, as I force the rest of my sentence out... Everything feels terrifyingly floaty... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DJ.... I.... I feel like I’m gonna get sick...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ ~ ~ </span>
</p><p>
  <b>DJ’s POV:</b>
</p><p>
  <span>If I didn’t get James back in the house in time, he would have barfed all over the fuckin’ concrete.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy hasn’t eaten a damn thing, yet here he is... Barfing up a storm.  My heart is shattering, but I can’t do anything but just stay here with him to make sure he’s okay... I don’t know if he’s present right now... I don’t know if he’s aware of what’s going on... I just know that I’m worried </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick </span>
  </em>
  <span>right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things haven’t been this bad in a long time, and I’m terrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I know it’s because of the trauma anniversary but that doesn’t take away my fear... Nothing can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, buddy... There ya go.... Let it out...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My voice sounds raspy and I know it’s from all of the crying last night, and this morning... James is hunched over the toilet, sweating bullets, and I’m just rubbing his back... I can’t stand seeing him get sick... I don’t care how long it’s been since it </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened</span>
  </em>
  <span>... It still haunts me... especially now, knowing that he’s struggling... Seeing him losing weight and not being able to eat is freaking me out... He can’t go back to it... </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please, god... Don’t let him...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just let it be from this rough week... Don’t let it last longer...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears are welling in my eyes but I’m trying my best to fight them.  I need to stay strong for James right now, but this is horrible.  It’s so hard... It’s just gotten harder since I came here last night... I still have so many fuckin’ questions but I know right now is definitely not the time to ask any of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what feels like an excruciating eternity, the barfing stops, and James has his head leaning on the toilet seat now.  He looks absolutely exhausted, but his body is still shaking, and I could swear I hear soft, shaky, whimpers come out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I keep on rubbing his back, but I don’t know if what I’m doing is even helping.  I wish I could make this better for him... I hate that he’s going through this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re alright... I’m right here, okay....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ ~ ~ </span>
</p><p>
  <b>JAMES’S POV:</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t remember getting in the bathroom, and I don’t remember getting sick either, but I know I did... There’s barf in the toilet and I just feel even more terrified than I did before...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m trembling with fear and uneasiness... My body feels like it got all of its energy sucked out of it, yet there’s this horrible adrenaline pumping through me.  Nothing is okay.... I don’t feel okay... I don’t feel okay....</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m in a sitting position now, but I’m shaking like a earthquake.  DJ is breaking my heart with his pained expression, but I feel too far gone to do anything.  I want to tell him I’m okay, but I can’t... I can’t even lie any more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not okay at all... I feel so exposed, and vulnerable... I feel like my protective layers have been peeled off of me and I’m incredibly unsafe... I feel like anything can happen... Someone could come and violate me... Objectify me... Use me for something... Nothing feels safe right now.  My body feels dirty and defective... My mind feels trapped in chains, and my soul feels empty and withered... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My arms are across my chest in a guarded posture.  Being in just my tank top is scaring the shit outta me right now... Everything feels revealed... I feel boxed into a dark corner, and I’m getting pushed into the tightest little hole there is in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>DJ’s voice is small and fragile, and fuck... Everything is getting worse just by hearing it.  My sensations are worse, and my uneasiness is stronger than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James... Talk to me... Please....Tell me what’s going on....”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DJ... You don’t want to know... You don’t want to know what I’m feeling right now... I don’t want you to know because you would be so upset, and scared... and you would want to help, but there’s nothing you can do about it... You can’t... If I tell you everything, you’ll never think of me the same way again... I know I push you away all the time but it’s because I’m terrified of getting close to people... I’m terrified or receiving love because the only “love” I got was being hurt... Being used... Being manipulated.... I don’t deserve comfort or help or support, but what you don’t know is that I’m also just as terrified to lose you... I need you, and if I tell you this, it’ll scare you away and I can’t get hurt again DJ... Please.... I can’t tell you...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m breaking down crying now... I don’t realize it's happening until I feel DJ start to rub circles into my hand.  My breaths are hitched, and my body is hot, yet cold.  All of the sensations are coming at me all together and I swear to god, I feel like I’m about to burst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I.... I can’t fuckin’ do it DJ...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words blurt out without my control and my voice is full of desperation, yet muffled with tears.  I can’t take it anymore!  I just need to let it out... I can’t fuckin’ do it...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want it all to stop already.... I need it to fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>end—“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t pretend everything’s okay... I can’t do it.  I’ve done it for too long and everything is horrible!  This last week has been the worst it’s been in a while, and I haven’t felt so helpless and terrified like this in such a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tears keep falling... DJ is squeezing my hand now and I know he’s trying to ground me.  He’s probably hurting so much right now, but I can’t even focus on that because that </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible </span>
  </em>
  <span>sensation just went through me again...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>one.... That.... No.... No.... No no no no no no no no no NO!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I automatically freeze up, and I stop crying abruptly.  Now I’m just trembling in place.  My eyes are wide open, and my heart is beating out of my chest.  My ears feel like they’re ringing, and I’m feeling dizzy again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>DJ’s squeeze tightens and my body stiffens.  My stomach is gnawing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I.... I feel it....”. My voice is barely a whisper and it’s shaking.  “It’s happening right now.... and....” My teeth are digging into my lip and I can taste blood.  I’m feeling sick again, and I don’t even know how that’s possible right now.  “And I just... I...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m stammering, and I’m having so much difficulty speaking at all... It’s hard when the sensations are disconnecting me from what’s really going on.  I feel unsafe... My body needs to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>off—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“James...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t realize that I’ve started to squeeze my skin until DJ gently squeezes my hand off of my arm.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James, I need you to focus on my voice... Buddy, I know what’s going on... It’s okay... It’s okay, focus on me...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is soft and grounding, but I hear the sadness in it... I hate that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>know... He knows.  He does know and I hate it...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It feels... It feels dirty.... I... I can’t—-“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I squeeze my eyes shut again, as I let the sensations flood me all at once.  Tears are falling but I can’t wipe them off.  I can’t because my arms are across my chest again.  I can’t fuckin’ do this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t do this!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t DJ... I can’t fuckin’ do it... I... I need it off... I... Don’t... Want....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Choppy sentences are shooting out of my mouth but everything is forced and strained.  I can’t breathe.  Everything hurts right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“James.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It fuckin’ hurts... and I can’t make it go away... and I don’t... want to.... feel it again.... I don’t want to feel it again....”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to feel it, DJ!  Don’t you understand?!  I’m feeling it ALL OVER AGAIN.  I DON’T WANT TO!  I DON’T WANT TO!  IT FUCKIN’ HURTS!  ITS PAINFUL!  AND IT’S TERRIFYING.  I don’t want to be used.  I don’t want to be manipulated.  I don’t want to be played around with and objectified and shunned and shamed and messed with—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“James.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I DON’T WANT TO BE ANY OF THAT BUT THAT’S WHAT I AM!  That’s what I’ve been treated like!  And I can’t fuckin’ DO IT AGAIN!  PLEASE DON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN, I CAN’T FUCKING DO IT AGAIN... I CAN’T DO IT AGAIN... I CAN’T DO IT AGAIN—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do it again, I can’t do it again, I CAN’T DO IT AGAIN—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t realize how many of my internal thoughts got spit out, but I know I’ve been running my mouth.  I’m crying again and I feel like I’m crumbling... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please DJ... I can’t... I can’t do it again... I feel so... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Violated</span>
  </em>
  <span>... and </span>
  <em>
    <span>exposed... </span>
  </em>
  <span>and.... and....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James... Listen to me...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t say it... I can’t say any more... I can’t say any more because DJ is grabbing both of my hands now, squeezing them tight.  He’s sitting right in front of me, as my body trembles with terrorizing agony.  I feel my head being lifted up a tad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me, James...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a slight crack in DJ’s voice and I let out a shaky hitched breath in response to it.  Having my head up and not being able to hide is scary, but I’m trying to listen... I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe </span>
  </em>
  <span>now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>DJ’s grip on my hands grows stronger as he speaks.  I want to argue and say that’s not true, but I can’t... I can’t because now he’s repeating the statement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hear me, James?  You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  You’re not with those people anymore...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is shaking his head slowly but with urgency, and I can make out his eyes welling with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They can’t do anything to you now... I won’t let them hurt you again...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My mouth is quivering and my body’s trembles are at their peak.  My eyes squeeze shut and now I’m letting everything out... I’m terrified, but I can’t hold it... I’m so fuckin’ scared but I need to just.... </span>
  <em>
    <span>cry...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel a pair of arms wrapping around me, and automatically flinch, but I don’t pull away.  The squeeze is tight which is feeling somewhat protective... I’m shaking so hard in DJ’s grip, and I can’t stop crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m... I’m sorry....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My head is pressed onto DJ’s chest, hidden from everything bad and scary, and my words are muffled.  They’re full of tears but they’re raw, and fragile... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James... <em>No</em>....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>DJ’s voice is full of pain and empathy... I know he’s crying too... I don’t need to look... I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong... You don’t need to be sorry for this... For <em>anything</em>....”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel his hands running through my hair now, but I don’t move... I’m letting myself lean into this touch even though I’m terrified... I know I need it...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry this happened to you... It never should have...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>DJ’s words are making me want to curl up even more, and I don’t hesitate to.  However, I don’t pull away from him... I’m letting him hold me... I’m letting myself be comforted and nurtured because deep down, I need it...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise that you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe </span>
  </em>
  <span>now... You might not feel like it, but I swear on every god in the universe...”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And deep down I know that DJ would never hurt me like they did...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe </span>
  </em>
  <span>now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I really hope he’s right.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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